


a little bit of devil in those angel eyes

by orphan_account



Series: DCU Prompts [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: College AU, Dick is an idiot, Don't pull a Dick, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked:<br/>College teacher dick hitting and lusting on Damian to then find out hes the son of the university owner</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little bit of devil in those angel eyes

“I have standards.”  
  


“Sure you do.”  
  


“I’m serious, Wally.”  
  


The teachers’ common smells of cheap brand coffee and the spring rain breeze that manages to creep through old window panes. Wally glances over his shoulder at Dick, red eyebrow quirked and his face otherwise blank as he spreads chunky peanut butter on a slice of bread. Dick’s hands are wrapped around a mug of coffee that he won’t even attempt to drink, it’s just something to keep his hands grounded.  
  


“ _Please_ ,” and he almost pouts.  
  


Wally snorts. “It can’t be that bad,” he says, walking over to the table and taking the seat across from Dick.  
  


“Trust me, it’s beyond bad,” Dick says. He watches Wally take a bite of his sandwich, jelly oozing out between the bread and dropping on the plate. Wally rolls his eyes but nods at him.  
  


“Okay, Drama Queen. Tell me what happened.”  
  
  


\- - -  
  


The first week of school was always chaotic without fail, for both students and staff. You had all of the students moving in and settling in the dorms, freshmen getting lost and falling victim to the whims of the upperclassmen, and not to mention the inevitable food poisoning from the dining hall.  
  


That’s why Dick always stuck to the cereal bar.  
  


As for classes, they were always full, but within the end of the second week, more than half of the seats will be empty. At least this is the case for Dick’s Calculus I class. Dick didn’t mind much though; he preferred smaller classes, he liked knowing the students individually.  
  


Dick’s barely in his office for five minutes when there’s a light knock on the door. He only looks up briefly before his eyes are glued back to the text on the desk.  
  


“Come in,” he says, the soft click of the door following soon after.  
  


“Professor Grayson?” he hears, a male voice that was far too elegant for any native Gothamite.  
  


“The one and only,” Dick says. “How can I help you?” He looks up, and he suddenly feels conscious of every second ticking away in this room.  
  


The visitor was a boy—was that even the correct word to use?—a very visually pleasing boy. He has high cheekbones encased in golden skin that could never be attained in Gotham, no matter how high the ambitions of a serial tanner, dark messy hair that still looks great, and eyes so blue they almost look iridescent.  
  


Dick had never prayed so hard in his life a person to not be a student.  
  


The boy clears his throat, regaining Dick’s undivided attention, and he holds up a thin stack of papers. “I’m just dropping off the paperwork for perspective students,” he says, and Dick be damned the kid had an accent—it wasn’t thick, each word was pronounced with confidence and vivid clarity, and it was pleasing to listen to.  
  


The boy walks closer, and Dick takes the crisp papers from him while wondering where his ability to think went.  
  


“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve seen you on campus before. Are you a student?” he asks.  
  


“No,” the kids says—and, really, Dick should be nothing short of ashamed at how relieved he is, but—  
  


“Staff?”  
  


The boy looks at Dick, and the corner of his mouth curls up into a slight smirk. “No.”  
  


Well. “Okay then. So, mind telling me why you have admission papers regarding my course?” Dick asks, and he hears the boy chuff a laugh that sounded rather mocking in nature.  
  


“I’m a relative of a staff member,” he says. “I’m simply running an errand for them.” He gestures to the papers in Dick hand, and it makes sense.  
  


\- - -  
  


“Okay, so you like some foreign guy with an accent. How is that bad?”  
  


“I didn’t get there yet,” Dick says, leaning back in his chair.  
  


“Okay, so what happened after that? Where’s he from?” Wally stands and takes his plate over to the sink to wash.  
  


“We started talking. His mom lives somewhere near New Delhi or whatever,” Dick says as he stirs the spoon around in his untouched coffee.  
  


“As in Arabia?”  
  


“Yep. He lives there during the summer. Separated parents.”  
  


“Ouch,” Wally says. He places the dishes on the drying rack before turning around to face Dick again. “So how did it go bad?”  
  


Dick’s expression turned sour, and he had an extreme urge to bury his face in his hands and slip through the cracks of the creaking floorboards.  
  


“I gave him my number.”Wally whistles. “Well I be damned. _The_ Dick Grayson got rejected.”

 

“Not exactly…”  
  


\- - -  
  


“Y’know,” Dick says, his arms resting comfortably on his desk. “You never told me your name.”  
  


The boy shifts, and then there’s another knock on the door. Before Dick can even get a word out, the door opens and someone pops their head in.  
  


”Sorry to interrupt,” a man says, and Dick’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, hand motioning for him to come in.  
  


“Mr. Wayne, not a problem. Please, come in.”  
  


Bruce takes a step inside, and almost immediately his attention swivels to the boy sitting across from Dick.  
  


“Damian, there you are,” he says, and Dick looks back at the boy too, surprised to hear his name, from Bruce Wayne no less. “You almost ready? Alfred’s waiting for us.”  
  


“Yes, Father.”  
  


It was the poorest time for Dick to take a drink, but he did and he regrets it immediately as he chokes, his throat burning as his lungs scream for air, and two pairs of eyes are on him and it’s only then that he sees it.  
  


Two pairs of blue eyes, exactly identical. That stupid, _stupid_ blue.  
  


Of course.  
  


“Are you okay?” Bruce asks, and Dick nods while covering his mouth. He can see the makings of a smirk on Damian’s face. And god, does Dick hate himself.  
  


Bruce doesn’t seem to certain, but he exchanges a few more curt words with Damian before he’s gone again, and Dick knows that he’s absolutely fucked, and not in the fun, extracurricular activity.  
  


“You said you weren’t a student!” Dick hisses.  
  


Damian shrugs. “I lied.” He watches Dick grip the desk, as if it’ll help him get a better grip on reality, and he rolls his eyes. “I gave you more than enough hints to figure it out. However.”  
  


Damian plants a hand on the desk as he leans over, a slip of white paper in his other hand that Dick wishes he could burn with his eyes.  
  


“If you don’t want word getting out about _this_ , you’re going to give me an A for the entire semester.”  
  


“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dick says.  
  


“See you in class, Professor,” Damian says, his words still loud in Dick’s ears long after the boy is gone. He just stares down at the admissions paperwork on his desk, eyes focused on the name on the top of the first page.  
  


_Damian Wayne._   
  


\- - -  
  


“Whoa, _back up_ ,” Wally says, green eyes wild and his hands raised in front of his face as if Dick is suddenly contagious. “ _You_ hit on the son of the _university owner_ who hasn't even graduated from high school yet, and he's _blackmailing_ you?”  
  


“I know!” Dick wails, and he feels as pathetic as he looks as he slinks down in his chair.  
  


“Dude, he’s _seventeen_.”  
  


“I know, Wally, _I had to look at his paperwork_.”  
  


They sit in silence for a few moments, and every tick of the clock whisks away an ounce of Dick’s sanity.  
  


“So what are you going to do?”  
  


Exasperated, Dick runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “I don’t know. Kinda why I was talking to you but you’re kind of unhelpful.”  
  


“At least I don’t hit on minors.”  
  


“I hate you.”  
  


“And Bruce Wayne will hate you too,” Wally says, “so you best be curving that boy’s grade in your class or else you will have the wealthiest man in the country make your life hell.”  
  


Dick glares at him and huffs. “Thanks, Wally.”  
  


“Any time, pedo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I have no idea what this is. Only that I rewrote this fucker five times.


End file.
